


Dark Returns

by PhantomWarrior99



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, bear with me, first time writing a dark character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-04
Updated: 2019-10-04
Packaged: 2019-10-22 01:40:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17653595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhantomWarrior99/pseuds/PhantomWarrior99
Summary: Gabriel’s back, but something’s off and you’re the only one who notices.





	1. He's Not The Same

Something is off. It isn't him. There's no plausible explanation, but it's not him.

Your hands tighten around the angel blade sheathed on your thigh. Sam. Dean. Cas. They're all oblivious, all too excited to see the archangel alive and seemingly well.

And Gabriel? He's laughing, smiling, giving every indication that he is, in fact, the archangel they all know and love.

It's not him.

What the others don't see are the carnal eyes that follow you everywhere. Every step, every breath you take, they drift across your lean form in a way that both excites and frightens you.

Hours tick by, and idle chatter continues. He's oddly patient, humoring the thousands of questions the Winchesters throw his way, tactfully choosing his responses. It takes awhile, but at last you're left alone, hunters and angel alike reading the telltale signs of no longer being welcome. He waits until they're well out of earshot and suddenly he's closer to you than he's ever been before.

"I missed you, sugar." His hot breath fans across your ear, leaving hairs bristling along the back of your neck.

"Did you?" You set the book of lore aside. Hours of searching, hours of paging through dusty old volumes for an explanation, and you came up with nothing.

"Absolutely." He presses a soft kiss to the side of your neck, hair brushed aside by a cool wisp of grace, ghosting across your soft flesh.

You tense beneath his hands, soft currents flowing just beneath the surface. He gently guides your back against the chair, remaining behind you with fingers working diligently over every muscle along your shoulders.

"I've thought about you, dreamt of you for so long in that void." Fingertips slip upwards, kneading into tendons that send aching jolts through searing nerves along the base of your skull.

Your hands snap back, gripping his hands with your own, "That hurts."

"You're tense, sugar, I'm just trying to help you loosen up."

Shivers drift along your spine, a startled yelp slips past your lips when his teeth graze the skin just beneath your jugular.

You're out of the chair before he can react, stumbling to the other side of the table to put something, _anything_ between you and the corrupted archangel.

"What the hell is wrong with you?"

"What's wrong, sugar?" His question is more condescension than curiosity and you reach for your blade.

"You know that does absolutely nothing to me, right?" His voice is behind you and you wheel around, blade drawn.

He tilts his head, amusement evident in every inch of his features, "Why all this hostility? It's only me."

"You're not Gabriel, you sick son of a bitch! I don't know what you are, but you're not him!"

He's too close and you're trapped between him and the table. His fingers wrap around the hilt of the blade, covering your trembling hands and tugging your rigid frame against him.

Whiskey bears into y/e/c, his eyes--there's no warmth, no glistening twinkle of mischief. They're cold, hungry, _dangerous_ and you want nothing more than to escape their gaze. 

"What happened to you?" It's barely a whisper, but Gabriel can detect the fear in your voice, and somehow, it brings a smile to his face.

"That, my love, is a topic for another time. For now, let's talk about _you_."

"There's nothing to talk about," it's a fleeting shred of bravery, something difficult to maintain with his arm encircling your waist and your only weapon being held securely between your body and the archangel's.

"Oh, there's _lots_ to talk about," he nuzzles his nose into the crook of your neck, trailing affectionate kisses along the exposed skin, "Starting, of course, with your new role."

"What new role?"

"As my queen, sugar. You see," he lifts his head, meeting your nervous gaze, "we're taking back heaven, babe. Which means, I'll need a right hand."

"Humans can't enter heaven unless we're dead and Sam and Dean will _never_ let that happen." You dare to lift your head, meeting his gaze with what remains of your dignity.

"Sweetheart, I could snap your neck right now," his fingers curl around the back of your neck, "and those knuckleheads would be none the wiser." His hold loosens as he absently rubs at the tense muscles, "but, I want you very much alive and well. Souls are so inconvenient to maintain up there. I want flesh and blood."

"No." Your features contort in pain when his fingers dig into your neck, your frame caving into his arms.

"It's not a request, sugar." He whispers into your ear, tightening his grip on the blade, crushing your hand tighter than necessary.

"Go to hell!" You choke out, tears pricking the corner of your eyes, darkness ebbing into your vision.

"I've been somewhere worse than hell, sweetheart. And this time, you're coming with me."

\--------------

You scream and suddenly you're upright, sheets clenched beneath your fists, heart racing, sweat slipping down your brow.

_It was a dream. A nightmare. He's still gone._

"Call and I come."

You jump, head snapping to the left side of your bed where Gabriel reclines lazily against the headboard.

You stumble out of bed, shuffling backwards away from the archangel, only to back into his waiting arms.

"Morning, sugar."

You struggle, but his arms are secured around you and you're no match for angelic strength. So, you surrender, focusing, instead, on calming your racing heartbeat and locating a quick escape.

To your dismay, there doesn't seem to be one. It's a beach house, dated, but comfortable. Some part of your twinges, wincing at the memories flashing before your eyes, memories of an archangel and a weekend away from hunting and Winchesters alike.

What you wouldn't give to go back to those two days.

"That's a good girl," he smiles, gently pressing a kiss against the side of your neck, pulling you from the onslaught  of nostalgia and grief. You jerk your head away, a deliberate, yet pitiful show of defiance.

"Hmm, not as good as I thought. Still, it's something." Gabriel smirks, relinquishing his hold around your shoulders.

You step away, whirling to face him with clenched fists, "Where the hell am I?"

"An old family vacation spot, not quite heaven, but more of a _heaven-adjacent_. Dear old Dad used to take my brothers and I here to _bond_ ," Gabriel strolls closer to the window, watching the waves roll lazily against the sandy beach. For a moment, there's a trace of nostalgia in his voice, a shadow of the man he'd once been clawing his way to the surface for a brief, fleeting moment before he's pushed under and locked away.

When the archangel turns, the warmth dissipates and a confident smile slinks into place, "Anyway, this is your new home, sweetheart. I'll pop in and check in once in awhile, at least until I can find a more," he pauses, whiskey darting across your form before settling back on your eyes, " _permanent_ solution to our little problem."

"You can't keep me here, Gabriel." You dare a defiant step closer, narrowing your eyes.

"Oh, I can and I will, sugar. Can't have you running around warning the Winchesters. Oddly enough, _you're_ the only one whose noticed that something is off. Not even Cassie noticed. I'm impressed."

He moves closer, noting the way your frame tenses as you struggle to maintain a brave facade.

"Your grace is corrupted," you realize, eyes widening.

"Perceptive." Gabriel pauses mere inches from you, having trapped you between the  nightstand and him, "Let's play a game, Y/N, you always liked my games, afterall."

"I don't want to play your stupid games."

"Tough. Here are the rules: you behave and I keep your precious hunters breathing, sound fair?"

"And if I refuse?"

"Then the Winchesters bite the dust. I know you better than you know yourself, which means you're going to behave. You care too much about those two."

"They'll notice I'm gone. You can't possibly think you'll be able to fool them for long."

"Not long, just long enough, sugar." Gabriel retorts with a dark smile. "Now, be a good girl while I'm gone."

"Where are you going?"

"I have some _errands_ to run."

\-----------

 


	2. No Escape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A beach house and a corrupted archangel aren’t what you would call heaven.

You've checked every inch of the property, or at least, you've tried. The seashore seems to stretch for miles, but it all circles back to the house. There's no definite entrance or exit, no way for you to find a way out. 

You're trapped and at the corrupted archangel's mercy. You've prayed. You've searched for something--anything--to give you an edge. There's nothing.

He brings you the necessities, snapping up a blanket here, some food there and all the while, casts longing gazes over your form.

It's been a week and you've resigned yourself to your predicament--at least for now. The only way you're going to get out of this is by finding the cause for his corruption, but trying to get through to him proves to be more difficult than anticipated.

One way or another, you'll have to get through.

So, when the rustle of feathers sound behind you and his warm body presses against your back, you set your jaw.

"Evening, sugar."

"Gabriel," you return tightly, abandoning the dish cloth to guide his hands back onto your hips, obstructing their path downward.

The archangel nuzzles into the side of your neck, inhaling the soft scent of perfume before pressing a kiss to the tense flesh.

"Miss me?"

"No."

You can feel his smile against the side of your neck and suddenly you're spun to face him and he has you pinned between him and the counter.

"One day, sweetheart, you're gonna miss me. You'll be begging me to walk through that door and ravage you."

"Doubtful," you lift your chin, fear having abandoned you the moment he stepped in the room.

There's a disturbing twist to the corner of his mouth, an unbecoming expression for the usually cheerful trickster, glimmering gold pinning you in place with a fire you've never seen before, "That a challenge, _sweets_?"

"A promise."

He snorts, pushing off the counter and pacing away, allowing you the opportunity to slip away from your would-be cage.

"It's only a matter of time. Still, I'm a patient man."

"Never used to be," you remind him, on edge, quietly skimming his frame for any mannerism of his former self.

"People change, sugar, that's just part of life."

"What happened?" You've been growing bolder with your questions, though, you don't anticipate an answer. Pushing for answers--it's the fastest way to get rid of him.

He always responds with the same thing, as if it's the only one he's memorized and this time is no different, "That's a story for another time."

"When's another time?" You challenge, noting the glimmer of annoyance in his eyes as he turns to face you.

"You always ask so many questions."

"Knowledge is power, Gabriel. You taught me that." You cross your arms and gauge the tension in his jaw.

"That the only thing you picked up on in all of our time together?" There's an edge to his tone, a gentle, yet firm reminder of who and what he is.

"Among other things."

He tilts his head, regarding you for a long moment, "Y/N, you're a clever girl. You'll figure this all out eventually, and when you do," a devilish grin spread across his lips, "the _real_ fun begins."

You're not sure if you like the ominous prediction, but your resolve doesn't waver. Instead, you square your shoulders, leveling a determined gaze on the archangel and steadily pace closer, "When I figure this all out, I'm going to _cleanse_ your grace. I'm going to help you reclaim who you once were--"

He's in front of you in an instant, an arm wrapped around your waist, your smaller frame tugged against his roughly. Whiskey flares with midnight and you set your jaw to suppress the shiver threatening to tear down your spine as you meet his gaze evenly.

"He's _dead_. What you see before you is nothing more than the fragments left behind by a blundered resurrection."

"Who tried to resurrect you?"

"Like I said, sugar, a story for another time." He presses a quick, harsh kiss to your cheek before he disappears and you stumble forward a few steps.

"I'm going to clip his wings," you mutter, glancing around the empty cabin. Your eyes land on a bookshelf on the far wall, curiosity getting the better of you as you cross the groaning wooden planks. You skim over the spines of each volume, searching, praying, pleading for something useful.

It's when you reach the end of the second shelf that a hopeful smile graces your lips. "Archangel anatomy, huh? This wasn't here before," you pause, fingers curled around the spine, "unless he's trying to--"

The dated volume is larger than you thought, divided into all the juicy details about an archangel, "Glad Chuck made a manual," you mumble, paging through for corrupted grace or poor attempts at resurrection.

You don't notice the hours tick by, your eyes glued on the pages in front of you. You don't hear the rustle of feathers behind you, pulse quickening when you hear him.

"Whatcha reading?"

You slam the book shut, looking up at Gabriel in confusion, "You just left--"

"Seven hours ago." His head jerks towards the sunset through the window.

"No, you didn't--"

"You calling me a liar, Y/N?" His hot breath fans against your ear and you swallow the lump in your throat, fighting for composure.

"Of course not," you stand abruptly, "just didn't realize it was this late."

He straightens up as you turn to face him and you struggle to remain steadfast under his gaze.

"I should get you a clock. You can stare at it and wait for your _angel_ to come back," he steps closer, the heat of his frame rolling off him in waves--a warped barrage of what was once a comforting presence.

"Thought you weren't an angel anymore." you counter, squaring your shoulders.

"I still have the wings, makes me... _heavenly_."

"Somehow I doubt you're keeping them as _pristine_ as you used to. The elegant curves, the soft feathers, glistening gold that glowed under a sunset," you nod towards the window, watching the tension and agony force their way to the surface as whiskey flickers towards the window. "Do you miss them? My fingers running through them--"

" _Enough_ ," his hand snaps out, catching you by the throat as he meets your gaze, searching for any trace of fear and yet, can't find any, "Your appeals mean _nothing_. You continue to press your luck, tempting both my patience and my wrath. That's a bad idea, _sugar_."

Your fingers claw at his hand, fighting for air as his fingers dig into flesh. His eyes find yours as you gasp, resorting to pounding against his chest in vain, edging closer to unconsciousness before he releases you roughly and you stumble, coughing and heaving for air as the fallen archangel stands over you.

"The old Gabriel is gone. The sooner you realize that, the better. You're stuck with _me_ now." He turns, moving towards the door, stopping only when he hear your voice.

"Then why'd you stop? Why am I alive?" You manage as you rub your neck, daring a defiant glance upwards at him.

"I need you alive."

" _Why?_ God knows I'll be nothing but trouble for you," you sit back on your heels, arms holding you upright, head still spinning from the lack of oxygen, "You want to know why I'm still breathing?"

He rolls his eyes in a dramatic show of annoyance as he turns back to face you, "I'm sure you'll tell me some faulty logic about me actually _caring._ "

"You said it yourself, you're an angel, wings and all. You're inherently good, your grace is just a little warped." You cautiously push yourself to your feet, "The old Gabriel shows emotion and the agonized stare out the window, the little touches here and there that are intended to claim instead of calm like they once did--you're still in there and I'm not giving up on getting you back. This isn't you."

There's conflict in his gaze before they clamp shut. When they open, the air around you turns cold, a chill running down the length of your spine as the cabin trembles, the ringing of his celestial voice filling the room. You drop to your knees, the heels of your hands bearing down on your ears with a scream of agony. Your eyes lift just enough to see the marred remnants of his wings ghosting over the back wall as they flare out in a pitiful show of strength.

And it fades, your hands falling away from your ears and you look up, a shadow of fear creeping into your eyes when they land on Gabriel, your heart stopping beneath the weight of deep midnight.

"It is now."

\-----------------------

You've been alone for a week.

At first, you thought he was busy, and then perhaps, he was making a point. He'd left the clock and you check it more often than you would like to admit--always anxious to see a once familiar face.

Two weeks and you're beginning to lose your patience, the isolation gnawing at your soul.

It isn't until the third week that you break down and pray.

"Gabriel, I know you can hear me," you lean against the couch, "I'm--I'm sorry, okay? You win. I give, just--come back."

Your gaze drifts around the room, the knot in your chest aching for his presence, even if it isn't the one you remember. All this time and you've had time to think, to reminisce and all it does is hurt.

The book is only useful to a point, the directions to cleansing grace happens to be irritatingly vague, difficult to interpret. At some point, you'd given up, returning your efforts to finding a weakness in your prison. Of course, you hadn't found one, discovering that the only way out was by angel wings and you seem to be fresh out for the last three weeks.

You were tired, lonely and you just wanted your archangel back.

"Wow, three weeks and I can _feel_ your desperation from Earth."

You sit up suddenly, glancing over your shoulder, "Where have you been?"

"Busy. You can't take over heaven by yourself, so, I've been bouncing between meetings."

"Why take over heaven? The angels are dwindling, there's no point."

"And what if I told you it's possible to make more?" He props himself against the doorframe, folding his arms across his chest in a show of cockiness you'd usually find amusing or charming were it not for the ominous edge in his voice.

"I'd say you're lying."

"I don't lie."

"Okay," you fold your arms across your chest, shifting so you can see him, "so, your plan is to take over heaven, make more angels and...what?"

"That part you get to guess."

"Wipe out humanity?"

"Who do I look like? Lucifer? _No_ , I find humanity's _quirks_ to be _entertaining_ to an extent."

"Fine, if you're not going to smite humanity, and you're obviously not capable of caring with your new...personality. So, why the _hell_ am I here?"

"That's a--"

" _No!_ I've been patient enough, what the hell do you want from me, Gabriel?"

He heaves a sigh, rolling his eyes dramatically as he pushes off the wall and paces closer, seemingly unimpressed with your feeble attempts at a demand, "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

" _Try me._ "

"Because you're important."

"Important how?"

"Can't say, part of a deal, but...you being here is for your own safety. Which, reminds me," he presses two fingers to your collarbone and everything inside ignites and burns.

You jolt away, confusion and agony evident in your eyes as you look up at him, "What did you do?"

"Warded you. I forgot earlier, but, now you're _definitely_ off Cassie's radar. So, get comfy, sweets. You're not going anywhere for awhile."

"Gabriel--"

" _Enough!"_

Your jaw clamps shut, fear gripping hold from the volume of his voice and the chasm of his eyes.

"You're here because I want you to be. You get a front row seat to everything I'm doing and when it's done, when you're the Queen of heaven, you'll understand." His hand cradles your cheek, fingers brushing against your skin gentler than he ever has before.

It's a soft moment, a break in the monster mask he's hidden behind. For a moment, he's the archangel, Gabriel. For a moment, honeyed hues bleed something beyond anger, beyond hatred. For a moment, it's like a dream--fleeting, but there.

"You'll understand," he whispers before he's gone, leaving you alone in the cabin with only your thoughts and a book of celestial jargon that could save him.

"Chuck help us all."

\----------------------

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey folks!  
> I hope you enjoyed chapter 2! Please leave a kudo/comment to let me know your thoughts!  
> ~ Phantom


	3. Darkest Part

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes a rescue doesn’t go as planned and a girl has to take matters into her own hands to save her rescuer’s life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey folks!  
> Here's chapter 3! I hope you guys enjoyed!  
> ~ Phantom

I never wanted you to see  
The darkest part of me  
\-------------  
"I've been here almost three months. The boys are no doubt onto you, so, for the love of all that is holy, unholy, or otherwise, tell me why the hell I'm here."

"I'm a little disappointed you haven't figured it out yet."

You don't like the patronizing lilt in his voice, the arrogant glimmer in searing whiskey as they rake over your tense form. You're tired of the cryptic one liners that never make any sense, the carnal glint in every gaze, the mocking mantra whenever he returns.

"Then how about you give me a clue?"

You know he can hear the growing aggravation in your voice, the exasperation in your eyes as you meet his gaze boldly.

"Nope, no can do, sweetcheeks."

There it is, a shadow you could recognize anywhere. He slips up, not often, but just often enough that you can't help but hope that the spell you've found will actually cleanse his grace.

That's probably what sets him off the most, those scrutinizing eyes studying every action, every word for traces of his former self. For reasons beyond your comprehension, he loves your attention, especially when he gets to flaunt the control he has over you. Sometimes you want to wring him up by his feathers and see how long it takes for a corrupted archangel to escape a demon's trap with holy fire and warded cuffs.

"Oh, the things that float through that pretty little head of yours. You're kinkier than you like to admit."

You shake your head to clear the rather vivid image from your mind before you meet his gaze.

"I thought we established boundaries?"

"Old me did, new me doesn't care," he ventures closer.

You fold your arms across your chest, leaning against the counter. You look calm, yet you know he can sense the growing apprehension.

"New you should get with the program." It's harsher than you intend, a silent betrayal of the facade you've fought to keep up with the ever-dwindling space between the two of you.

"Aw, you still have a rebellious spark," another pitiful tilt of the head, another downward twitch to the corner of his lips as if he actually feels some shred of sympathy for you, "That's adorable."

"I'm sure it is," given his expression, he understands the meaning of the deadpan as you lift your head, squaring your shoulders beneath the weight of his gaze.

"How long until you cave, sweets? I'm getting impatient." His eyes rake over your form, steadily pacing closer.

"Bite me."

"Only if you ask nicely."

"Perv."

"I think I like you better when you're scared."

"What?"

"The quiver of your lips, every muscle, every tendon trembling the closer I get," he's inches away and you wish you could retreat a few more steps to put more space between you, a wish thwarted by the edge of the counter pressing hard against the base of your spine, "I can hear your heart pounding, your mind racing and," there's a devilish grin tugging at the corner of his lips, arms resting on either side of the counter, "there it is. The fear, the adrenaline--oh, yes...it's intoxicating."

You divert your gaze as his lips press against the side of your neck, fighting for any semblance of control over the flood of unidentifiable emotions.

"Not as into it as I am, are you?" There's a reluctant twinge somewhere beneath the depths of his gaze.

"No."

He recoils, "Dear Dad, the things I'd do to you if those pesky--" he stops himself, abandoning your frame altogether.

"Pesky what?" You're slow to step away from the counter, cautious and bold all at once.

"Morals. Fragments. Unimportant," he paces away, rubbing at something absently on his wrist.

You dare a few steps closer, reaching for his shoulder before he turns to face you abruptly, gripping your wrist. Your breath catches in your throat, y/e/c locking with dark rims of hazel as they drift from your hand to your eyes and he releases his hold.

You force back the fear, the blaring alarms in the back of your mind as your fingers smooth over his forearm in the first touch you've initiated since his resurrection.

He watches as your eyes fall to his arm, gingerly prying the material of his jacket away from his wrist to reveal a deep laceration. The ache in your chest reminds you of a time before midnight consumed honey, a time when you played nurse to a battered archangel after the battle with Lucifer.

"What happened?" You ask at last, inspecting the extent of the damage.

He arches an eyebrow, but decides to humor you, if for no other reason beyond entertaining himself, "Skirmish."

"With what?"

"It's not important."

"Gabriel." You warn, leading him to the couch before grabbing the first aid kit under the end table.

"You're adorable when you're trying to be stern," he goads, allowing you to clean the wound.

"Fine, don't tell me. Why isn't your grace healing you?"

"Corrupted grace, remember?" He deadpans, amusement dissipating, "Doesn't work as well as it used to."

"What if I can cleanse it?" you look up, meeting his gaze, "What if I could help--"

"You can't," he returns sharply, "I am how I am, Y/N. Whether you like it or not, this is what i am now."

Your shoulders sag, relenting for the time being as you redirect your attention to the stitches you're securing.

It's silent, an uncomfortable silence, but silent nonetheless. You can feel the weight of his gaze, the heat of the back of his hand against your thigh as you gingerly bandage the stitches, trying to ignore how damned familiar this all feels.

"Stop staring."

"I'm not."

"Thought you didn't lie."

"I'm musing, there's a difference, sweetcheeks."

"I'll bite, what are you musing about?"

You know he can sense the annoyance, but if it bothers him, he doesn't let it show, "The first time we met."

"That's...a little sappy for a corrupted archangel." You steal a glance towards his face, catching the tail end of an expression you can't quite identify.

"It'll fade."

"What drew your attention to that memory?"

"Deja vu," he nods pointedly to your hands on his wrist.

You fall silent, securing the bandage in place and waiting another two minutes before you speak, "Gabriel?"

"What?" He flexes his wrist, testing the durability of your work.

"You said that what you are now is what you'll always be, right?"

"Yep, meaner than Dean with his little mark."

"But this wasn't your choice...was it?"

He snorts indelicately, a wrinkle of the nose you can only attribute to a subconscious tendency to not humor obvious guesses, "Nope."

"But could you have made a choice to refuse this?"

"When someone is resurrected, it's usually against their will, sweets. I didn't want--" he stops himself, catching the slip before it takes him too far, "never mind."

"You didn't want to come back, at least, not like this."

"This is Gabriel numero dos, new and improved," another barrage of the archangel's charm, another scrap you long to see, "I'm back and better than ever."

"Personally, I'd call this a downgrade." You fold you arms across your chest, slouching against the back of the couch.

He pauses, something you can only assume is confusion or perhaps indignation glinting in his eyes as he shifts his gaze to you. "You have too many opinions."

"And you're not as much of a dick as you could be." You return promptly, a shadow of a smirk tugging at the corner of your lips until he leans closer.

He's hovering over you, holding just short of your face with arms on either side of the couch cushion, "Say that again," it's not a playful lilt, not like it used to be. His eyes are lost to the inky chasm, the edge in his voice setting off every alarm, every hunter's instinct you have.

"Gabe--"

"Don't. I said, say it again." You're pressed as far back as the couch allows, heart pounding, skin crawling as you fight to meet his haunting gaze.

"I'm sorry," you manage, y/e/c dropping to the dwindling space between your frames.

"I feed you. I protect you and this is the thanks I get? Heckling, endless questions, and scrutinizing looks? Dear Dad, you really are a Winchester." His eyes flicker over your features, glee creeping into his stern glower, "But, you are trembling, which means you're learning your place."

You press harder against the back of the back of the couch, setting your jaw as his fingers reach out, easing their way beneath the material of your shirt. His warped grace ghosts over your skin, leaving an almost burning sensation in its icy wake. You can't escape it, crimson wisps steadily trailing closer to the band of your jeans, moving in tandem with his lips over your collar bone.

"I can taste your fear, Y/N." He fiddles with the button of your jeans, hoping no doubt, for a whimper or another plead, "Who's not much of a dick now?"

"Gabriel--"

"Y/N!"

Gabriel jerks back, midnight shifting to the new arrival with a mixture of fury and amusement, "Cassie? I must say it is a surprise to see you here. However did you find us?"

He's patronizing again, but you're grateful it's on someone else, another out for his wrath.

"How doesn't matter. Why are you holding her here?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?"

"Castiel?" You start to stand, only to be shoved back down onto the couch.

"Sit down, sweets, Cas and I have some business to attend to," Gabriel straightens up, turning to face his younger brother, "You know, I can't have you telling tweedledee and tweedledum about Y/N's little place here," he gestures around him.

"Gabriel, this isn't you. The resurrection was--"

"A gift. What is it with you people?" He begins to pace, Castiel keeping him at a safe distance, "This isn't you. I can help, yadda, yadda, yadda." He mocks, gesturing between the two of you before he jabs his thumb into his chest, "I like how I am."

"No, you don't--"

"Says who?" He bites back, circling closer to his little brother.

"You do." Castiel returns boldly, stealing a glance towards your confused form, "It's why she's here and not on Earth. You're afraid, terrified of how she'll see you if she saw the full magnitude of what you're doing."

"Shut up!" Gabriel's angel blade slips down his sleeve, "She's here because--because I said so, dammit!"

"You're still attached, Gabriel, emotionally tied to Y/N just as you always have been," Castiel draws his own angel blade, preparing to block.

"Wow, where'd you get that one? Sam-heart-on-my-sleeve Winchester? I don't give rat's ass what she thinks. She'll be my queen, and then she'll understand why I've done all this--"

"You'll show her the end result, but you hide the process because you want to protect--"

"The her in question is sitting right here!" You manage to reclaim a fragment of courage, y/e/c darting between the brothers.

"As much as I enjoyed your visit, Cassie, it's time for you to leave," Gabriel moves forward, prompting the angel to retreat a step.

"Not without Y/N."

"Suit yourself."

You barely scream a warning before Gabriel lunges, knocking Castiel back against the wall. The cabin trembles, walls vibrating, windows rattling as a storm gathers above. It's relentless, an onslaught of rain and thunder as the angels battle, grace flying, blades clashing and you're helpless to stop them.

Your protests are lost to the cacophony above as you beg for them to stop as Gabriel lands a laceration to Castiel's arm. Blades abandoned, they resort to fists and the younger angel is no match for the fury of a warped archangel. 

He's a bloodied mess beneath his brother's knuckles, beaten into a state of unconsciousness as you scramble to pull Gabriel off.

With a flick of the wrist, you're sent hurtling against the far wall, shattering frames and tables alike. Every muscle screams in protest as you lift yourself to your elbows, mind racing as y/e/c searches for a solution.

You notice the crimson seeping from your palm. You don't have a choice, Castiel can't handle anymore. He could die.

It's all you can tell yourself--how you can justify painting the banishing sigil onto the wooden boards beneath you.

"Gabriel!"

He stops long enough to look over his shoulder at you, eyes widening when you slam your palm onto the sigil.

The flare of light fades and Castiel is gone, leaving only the corrupted archangel kneeling on the floor.

"Son of a--" he rubs his chest forcefully, as if he's willing sharp flare of pain echoing across his flesh to fade.

"You--you didn't disappear." You stammer, fear gripping hold.

"Guess I'm not as angelic as you thought," another hollow laugh that sends a chill down your spine and pools in your stomach.

You scramble back against the wall as he rises, an uncertain sway in his steps as he moves closer to you. All you can hear, all you can feel is the pounding of your heart in your chest, eyes locked on his frame when he kneels in front of you.

"Banishing Cas, huh? You delayed the inevitable, that's all." He reaches out, his bloodied knuckles ghosting over your cheek, a soft whimper slipping free as you shy away from his touch, "When I find him...it won't be me who kills him, sweets. It's you."

He stumbles to his feet, clutching his side as he all but collapses onto the couch, leaving you a quivering mess in the corner of the room.

"You know, I never wanted this. You. To see me like this. The monster drudged up from the Empty with a lust for death." his gaze flickers towards you, studying your trembling frame, "You always saw the best in me, didn't you? Even when dumb and dumber warned you off, you always thought there was some shred of decency in the old Trickster."

His features soften, and for a brief moment, he's the same broken archangel you'd met years ago on one of his just dessert escapades. For a brief moment, he's Gabriel. Your archangel. Your feathers.

And then he's gone, swiftly replaced with a callous flare of midnight that consumes the soft honey you've grown to love.

"Too bad he's gone. Now, it's just you and me, sweets, for the rest of eternity."

"I won't give up," you manage, slowly unfurling from the ball of fear.

"You will, you know why?"

"Why?"

"Because we have nothing but time."  
\---------------------

**Author's Note:**

> Hey folks!  
> I hope you enjoyed chapter 1! This is the beginning of a mini-series, but I have a ton of prompts to catch up on! So, be on the lookout for chapter 2!  
> ~ Phantom


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